My Dad’s book, Waiting for an Army to Die, is archived at the Library of Congress. I just discovered that the other day. My sister said she already knew. I should visit that library sometime. It’s not so far from home.
Working on the slideshow for my uncle’s memorial. There is a memorial for the public on May 4th at Cherry Sprout Park in Portland. The slideshow is for the indoor family/friends one. A friend of Uncle Michael’s said Cherry Sprout Park is small and will probably be crowded. I can’t wait for family to start arriving. I’m actually pretty homesick.
Been wondering if I should burn all my journals. I haven’t kept a paper journal in years, but I do have over a hundred. I’d have to cull through for any decent literature first and what God-awful mud-slogging that would be! The leeches! The sweat! The poisonous snakes! I know I don’t want to remember it all, but to burn indiscriminately would lead to waste.
Phoebe Wilcox, Writing Like the Deadline is Death 